


An Exercise in Control

by cheshirecat101



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Dissociation, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Recovered Memories, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecat101/pseuds/cheshirecat101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While being visited by Hannibal, Will recovers a very important piece of memory. Something that Hannibal wants. Pre episode four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exercise in Control

**Author's Note:**

> Set before episode four of season two. The lyrics at the beginning of this fic come from the song Cannibal by the Silversun Pickups, which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYjunrxUyAc). Whew, so, this is done. I had a vague idea for this fic ages ago, after season one, but it didn't fully develop into something until this season. Then this happened!  
> On a slightly unrelated note, I'm doing commissions, guys! So if you have anything in particular you'd like to see from me and are willing to commission me, you can contact me on my [tumblr](http://disassociatedtinman.tumblr.com/), or on here and I can give you my email address so we can talk. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

_Who is gonna break the ice_   
_No room for shallow alibis_   
_Who will be the first to bite_   
_Or do we keep on playing nice_   
_Until the next time_

“You don’t need me for this case.” The words were short, nearly clipped. He didn’t have the patience for this today. “So why are you really here, Hannibal?”

It still felt strange using his first name. It was a sign of friendship, of camaraderie, of all the things they didn’t and would never have. The name felt heavy on his tongue, foreign, but he said it anyway, because he knew Hannibal liked it. Liked to think that they were closer than they were, and Will wanted to feed into that in whatever way he could. Make friends with the beast, so he could slay it in the end.

And yes, there it was, just as he’d thought. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth lifted just slightly upon hearing the name, a small smile gracing his lips for just a few moments. It was gone again as he said, “I must confess, I am mostly concerned with inquiring after your health. It is my duty as a friend as well as your therapist to make sure that you are alright, especially in circumstances such as these. But the FBI does need your help with this case, Will.” He slid the glossy crime scene photos over, eyes lifting from them to meet Will’s reluctant gaze. “I’m merely asking you to take a look on their behalf.”  
Will watched him for a moment, noting no deception behind that even, calm gaze, then smiled slightly, looking down at the photographs. Right. He could play nicely. “Where’s Beverly?” he asked as he flipped through the photos, the chain on his handcuffs clinking against the table as his hands moved.

“She was…indisposed, as I understand it. Jack asked me to come as a favor.”

“Jack asked you?” He looked up from the photos, catching Hannibal’s eyes full on. “I find that hard to believe considering he didn’t want Beverly to come in the first place.”

“Would you be happier if I said I volunteered?” Hannibal asked, his tone nothing but polite, and that same slightly ironic smile graced Will’s lips. He already knew Hannibal had volunteered, he mostly just wanted him to admit it. Admit that he liked these visits, wanted to see Will, _missed_ him. The more he reminded Hannibal of these things the more fooled he would be into believing that Will legitimately wanted to be his friend, and would hungrily snatch up any sign from him that confirmed that belief. And then Will would be one step closer to taking him down.

He didn’t answer, choosing instead to focus on the photos in front of him, the lurid red blood printed out onto glossy paper for him to see. He missed the privacy he used to have for this, the emptied out crime scenes that allowed him the space to think, to empathize alone. Here he had to do it in front of an audience, and it was hard to avoid feeling like he was putting on a show. Look at the funny little empath, wasn’t he cute? Chained up so nicely so he wouldn’t bite the visitors. His hand briefly clenched on one of the pictures, and he set it down carefully on the table, closing his eyes so he could think.

_“Close your eyes.”_

He opened his eyes again, surprised, and found Hannibal still sitting placidly across the table from him, his hands folded as he watched him. It didn’t seem like he’d spoken, but that had clearly been his voice in Will’s head, clear and crisp and firm. Commanding. Yes, that was the proper term for it. Hannibal’s voice had been giving him a command, though he didn’t know why or where that particular sound bite stemmed from. It wasn’t a memory he could recall having, and yet he’d heard it plain as day. He paused, closing his eyes with more caution this time.

 

_“Close your eyes.”_

_The heavy feeling of eyelids slipping down over exhausted eyes, shutting in a way that made him unsure if he could open them again. Hannibal’s voice was calm, soothing, an anchor in the otherwise stormy sea of his mind. He was dissociating again, he could feel it, could sense the world around him becoming less and less real as he drifted farther and farther away from reality and further into his own mind, the last place that he wanted to be right now. The last place that he wanted to be period._

_“Today we’re going to try an exercise in control.”_

_Every time he was sure his exhaustion was going to pull him away, Hannibal’s voice pulled him right back. It was so easy to drown in that voice, let it take over and swallow him whole, listen to it and comply with whatever it said because it was so even and sure of itself and he was so fractured and unsure that it must be right, it must be telling him to do what was in his best interest._

_He could hear, almost distantly, the subtle, sly sounds of fabric rustling as it moved, as the voice came closer, and his rational mind wondered for a moment exactly what Hannibal was doing and why he was coming closer. These thoughts shifted, however, settling calmly at the bottom of his mind like rocks at the bottom of a pond after they’d been disturbed as the voice said, “Stay calm, Will. This exercise is about letting go of control. Relaxing, and trusting yourself as well as anyone else in the room.”_

_He nodded almost unconsciously, letting himself slip under that voice again, those soft tones that still carried a heavy power with them. Right now, he didn’t want to disobey, didn’t feel a need to question what Hannibal was doing or why the sounds of fabric shifting were getting closer, content to settle in his chair and listen, and wait. Right now he needed something to guide his spiraling mind, and Hannibal’s voice was perfect._

Oh. This was a _memory_. That was why he could hear Hannibal’s voice so clearly, why he didn’t immediately recognize the scene playing out in his head. It was another tidbit of memory dredged up from the black well that he’d lost so much time in, the place he was slowly recovering the past from, every piece of himself that Hannibal had managed to hide away. This was another one of those pieces, something that had happened that he’d been forced to forget. Something Hannibal had wanted him to forget.

 

_The first touch almost made him open his eyes, but he remembered Hannibal’s words and kept them closed. This was about trust, right? Letting go of control for a little while. He could do that. He wanted to do that, in a way. It seemed like such a better alternative to trying to control the raging seas of his mind by himself, and Hannibal’s voice was so calming, so soothing, so commanding that he felt he didn’t have a choice but to obey. Maybe he wanted to be controlled._

_Besides, the touch actually felt nice. A hand, carded through his hair gently, before it moved down to cup his cheek. It was broad, and warm, and reassuring. A tie to anchor him to reality. He leaned slightly into it without meaning to, some of the tension he’d been holding melting away, gone in a soft touch, the only affection he’d seen in…well, months. Who was giving this affection didn’t seem to matter, didn’t even register in his mind. It wasn’t important. At least, not until he felt the gentle touch of another pair of lips to his own._

_His eyes nearly flew open at that, but he was stopped with a gentle reprimand of, “Will.” Through his half-lidded gaze he could see someone in front of him, a tie and the start of a smooth throat above a shirt collar. Hannibal. Hannibal was—wait, no, that didn’t make any sense. Hannibal wouldn’t._

_“Will, keep your eyes closed.” The voice was firm, a hint of warning in its tone, and he obeyed on instinct, his eyes slipping shut again even though his mind was desperately trying to struggle to the surface of the unreality keeping it muddled. “Remember, this is an exercise in control. I want you to relax and lose yourself in the moment. Give up your control, Will. Can you do that for me?”_

_He was nodding before he fully heard the question, intent on obeying that lovely voice and whatever it told him to do. With his eyes closed like this, nothing left for him to contemplate but the darkness lurking behind his own eyelids, he needed something to remind himself of where and when he was, that he existed in the first place, and those calm commands were helping. He so desperately wanted help._

_There was a minute swallowed up by silence, the only sound their breathing, quiet and soft, undisturbed and even. The exhaustion was setting in again, settling into his bones like an old friend would into a familiar chair, and his mind drifted to thoughts of the poisoned sleep he’d been plagued with recently, the same sleep he’d get if he stayed like this for much longer. He didn’t want that. Sleep hadn’t been a friend for a long time, and somehow he doubted that the voice wanted him to go to sleep. That didn’t seem to be the goal in this particular exercise._

_He was pulled back into awareness, into focus by that same sensation from before; a soft press of lips against his own, gentle, chaste. Nothing to be afraid of, though he didn’t understand why it was happening. And didn’t particularly care who was doing it. It fed an appetite he hadn’t realized he had, a long neglected need for affection, for human contact that he’d hidden away after the incident with Alana and refused to revisit since then. It roared into awareness now, making its presence known as he began to kiss back, surging forward into the kiss with the hunger driving him to want more, seek more, press for more in whatever way he could. He could feel the lips against his smile slightly and then he was being kissed with more passion, more force, and he drank in every drop of the sweet affection he hadn’t realized he needed._

_His breathing was hard by the time that the lips pulled back, and his eyes almost fluttered open before he remembered that he was supposed to keep them closed and complied, moving them behind closed lids as his brow furrowed slightly. He couldn’t find himself now. He’d been able to properly feel the situation, feel the complete reality of this world, of himself, when he was being reminded with physical touch, but now he’d lost that and he wasn’t sure again of where or when he was._ If _he was in the first place, which was the big question, wasn’t it? He could already be gone by now._

_Too late, he realized that there was a hand on his thigh, the warmth of it bleeding through his pants. When had that gotten there? And whose was it? Certainly not Hannibal’s, though Hannibal was the only one he could remember being in the room. The fact that some unknown hand was lying on his thigh didn’t alarm him because this wasn’t reality. No, none of this was real right now. He was probably hallucinating again, or blacking out, or losing time, or dreaming, or something. He was about the farthest away from reality that he could be right now. Which was why the hand currently sliding up the inside of his thigh didn’t bother him. Why it almost felt good, in a way._

_He shifted underneath the touch as it went higher, and higher, and higher, fighting the urge to open his eyes once again so he could take control of the situation and fully understand what was going on._

_“Relax, Will. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.”_

_That was Hannibal’s voice, wasn’t it? The same clear, crisp one that delivered the commands, the one that currently had him pinned in place, eyes remaining shut as he forced himself to relax again, going still in his chair. Right. Control. This was all about control, and he had to give up his own if he wanted any more of that lovely affectionate contact. At least, he hoped that that was what his reward was. But what if it wasn’t? What if Hannibal was going to pull back now, what if the hand was going to leave his cheek, what if the kisses were going to stop and the touches and the contact—_

_These thoughts hit a wall as the thumb of the hand against his face began to gently stroke his cheek, moving in slow, sweeping motions that had the panic that’d been crawling up his spine easing out again, slowly leaving his body as he relaxed underneath the touch. The affection was his reward. Good. He could handle this then, could obey whatever command he was given if only for the sake of that wonderful affection that was keeping him fed, whole, sane at the moment._

_Softly, the kiss from before was resumed again, lips moving against his with a delicacy usually reserved for handling skittish or rare animals. A tongue was traced delicately along his lower lip with a patience that was nearly saintly. Left. Then right. Left. Then right. He parted his lips slightly to the entreaty and before he knew it his head was being tipped back so he could be kissed more fully, the tongue slipping into his mouth and moving slowly, exploring. It was good for him to focus on physical sensation, get lost in the feeling of someone else against him instead of losing himself inside of his own head and the horrors that were awaiting him there. It felt so good, to give up control like this._

_The hand that was on his thigh was high up now, nearly at the juncture between his thigh and groin, and its warm weight disappeared for a moment. He missed the contact instantly, wondering where it had gone, until his question was answered a moment later as he was cupped through the fabric of his pants, a hand gently kneading the arousal he hadn’t even realized had been forming. He gasped against the lips on his, his exhale shaky, and a forehead was rested against his, the kiss broken for the time being._

_“Let yourself go, Will. It’s alright. You’re quite safe here.”_

_Safe. Safe wasn’t a word he’d been able to use in quite some time, a state of being he hadn’t experienced for weeks, months now. How could he feel safe when only corpses greeted him in his sleep, when dark stags walked through his dreams into reality, when he could no longer tell reality from his nightmares? How could he ever, ever feel safe when he had knowledge of what was lurking out in the darkness?_

_But he felt safe now, didn’t he? Safe, even though his head was spinning. He trusted the voice that was giving him such gentle commands, that was guiding him into sweet affection and letting him take his time enjoying it, savoring it because it was the only affection he’d seen in weeks and the only affection that he_ would _see for weeks. So yes. He believed the voice when it said that he was safe here. Somehow, he could believe it._

_The lips returned to his and he drank it in, the hand continuing in its slow motions as it began to stroke him gently through the fabric of his pants. He automatically canted his hips up into the contact, eager for more. As long as it’d been since he’d seen affectionate contact, it’d been even longer since a hand that wasn’t his own had touched him and it just felt so good, so very, very good. It allowed him even less room to think, which was good, got him out of his own head, stopped him from questioning what was and wasn’t real as he narrowed his focus down to the hand on him, slowly stroking him, and the lips that were still gently kissing him, though no longer chastely as that same teasing tongue slipped back into his mouth._

_The pressure and pace of the hand increased and he was left gasping, the kiss becoming sloppy as he was distracted, head muddled by physical sensation and heated pleasure to the point that he couldn’t focus on anything else. Didn’t want to focus on anything else, with the way that hand was moving against him._

_“I care very much about you, Will.”_

_That was…that was the voice again. Hannibal’s voice. No, it couldn’t be Hannibal’s voice, he wouldn’t say things like that. If it was Hannibal’s voice, that would mean that he was the one acting right now, and there was no way it was Hannibal’s hand and lips on him. That just didn’t make any sense, why would he do that? Hannibal was his therapist, and his friend. Nothing more, even if Will’s thought occasionally wandered in that direction, in a more contemplative way than any real sense of interest on his part. Hannibal hadn’t expressed any sort of interest in him beyond a simple friendship and their doctor-patient relationship, so he had to assume that hearing Hannibal’s voice was disconnected from all of this. Different, somehow._

_“There are very many things that I would like to give you. Would like to do for you.”_

_He was rolling his hips into the hand now, his breathing heavy and his eyes moving quickly behind closed lids. He rested his head back against the back of his chair, his throat bared as his lungs moved quickly to support his short, quickened breaths, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. It was so hard to care about anything beyond the sensations he was experiencing because he just didn’t want it to stop, wanted that teasing to keep going and going and going and going until he finally had the release he was seeking. His body was steadily tightening in on itself, the slow burn in his abdomen coiling and winding itself tighter and tighter until it nearly hurt, until he needed to finish, now, until he was sure that he was going to, this was it this was it he was going to come, it was going to be over god yes he just needed that hand to continue for a minute longer—_

_“But maybe not today.”_

_Suddenly the hand withdrew completely, and he was left confused, frustrated, at the peak but unable to tip over like he wanted to. His hand automatically moved to finish himself off, but he was stopped with a simple, “No, Will. You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” Finally, his eyes fluttered open, an open act of defiance, and he saw that Hannibal had stood up and was moving away from him, back to his own chair._

_“Please,” he said, the words barely making their way out of a dry throat, and Hannibal smiled as he sat down._

_“You’re not going to remember any of this,” he said, his voice even, calm, like nothing had happened in the first place. “You’ve been dissociating again, and this memory will get locked away like so many others. I can’t allow you to touch yourself because it would leave behind evidence of what happened. Understand?”_

_Will nodded somewhat distractedly, too focused on the burning, lingering arousal to fully process Hannibal’s words. The fact that Hannibal was outright stating that he wouldn’t remember this should have bothered him, but it didn’t. The fact that he wasn’t allowed to touch himself did, and he had to bite back a groan of sheer frustration, biting his lip in the process. Hannibal saw his frustration and smiled, smoothing down the leg of his trousers as if he wasn’t showing his own signs of arousal and Will wasn’t sitting across from him, completely sexually frustrated and desperate for more of the contact he’d been enjoying just a minute ago._

_“Congratulations, Will. You did very well in the exercise,” Hannibal said, his eyes returning to Will’s. “Now, what would you like to discuss today?”_

Will opened his eyes slowly, half convinced that when he did, he was going to find himself still in Hannibal’s office, Hannibal sitting across from him and both of them sexually frustrated but neither of them allowed to do anything about it. Instead, he found Hannibal placidly sitting across the table from him, evidently waiting for him to come out of his empathy coma and tell him what he’d found while he was in there. Well, he’d found something alright, but it wasn’t quite what he expected.

And what he had found, despite how alarming it should have been, was actually a valuable piece of information, a weapon he could use against Hannibal. Because it revealed exactly how Hannibal felt about him, exactly what he had wanted from him even then. Hannibal didn’t want to be friends with him. No. He just wanted Will.

Hannibal seemed to catch something, maybe a look in his eyes or a change in his expression, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. It seemed more like a smirk, actually, like he knew exactly what Will had seen, the memory that he’d recovered. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the  table and maintaining steady eye contact with Will.

“What did you see, Will?”


End file.
